A Welcome Proclamation
by graydorian
Summary: A short, mushy piece on the hidden attraction between Oliver and Percy. Slash.


"A Welcome Proclamation" 

"Percy, I need some help," said Oliver as he walked into the room and flung his quidditch paraphernalia on his unmade bed. 

"Yes?" replied Percy patiently, lifting his eyes from the book he was reading -- _A History of Dragon Folklore in Slavic Lands_. His gaze fell on a tall, slightly muscled fourth-year boy dressed in a Gryffindor practice jersey, still sweaty from the August afternoon practice. Percy swallowed. 

"I simply *know* that I will not do well in Potions this year if I don't get these new, basic mixtures down, especially the one involving... dandelion juice?" 

"Dew taken off a daffodil," Percy corrected. 

"See? I need help. Would you mind?" 

"Of course not," Percy answered with a smile. He never minded giving people help with schoolwork. School was his domain, the place he could excel and be the best -- it made him feel strong and in control. And he never passed by a chance to spend time with Oliver. Although they were the only Gryffindor fourth-year boys, the only time they were really together was in their room, in class, or during a meal, mostly due to Percy's spending hours a day in the library and Oliver's demanding quidditch schedule. Percy regretted it immensely. 

There was something about Oliver that appealed so much to Percy. He couldn't quite pinpoint it though. Was it Oliver's confidence? His determination with regard to quidditch? His friendliness? Or was it something different, something Percy was afraid to consider... He put the thought out of his mind. It was impossible that that could be it. Respectable wizards simply did not consider such things. 

"Great, thank you so much. I'm just going to shower, and I'll be right back," Oliver said, smiling. He took his robe and quidditch bag and left the room. 

Percy listened as his footsteps echoed down the stairs and eventually disappeared. He looked down at his book. Dragons... Bill... folk tales... He tried to read and stop his mind from wandering to where he knew it would wander -- to Oliver, setting his bag down on the bathroom floor, freeing his hands to begin taking off the soiled gold and maroon jersey -- to his skin, gradually becoming more and more visible, glistening in the sunlight coming through the window behind him -- to him in the shower, turning on the water, the clear droplets making trails down his tanned, athletic body -- to his hands, covered in soap suds, caressing his wet body, making their way from his youthful neck to his muscled shoulders to his quidditch-toned arms to his flat stomach, stopping for a second at his cute belly button, then on to his waist and hips and... 

Percy started and frustratedly stared at his book. No, it meant nothing, just a random trip of the imagination, that's all. He calmed himself and attempted to read his book, distracting himself from what he had just been envisioning. Tracing his fingers along the spine, he read. "Prague has often been considered a hub of dragon-related activity, much in the same way that Romania has been popularised for its rich dragon history." He continued, but soon lost track of his place and had to start again. He had barely finished two pages when he heard his roommate's footsteps in the narrow stone stairwell. 

Percy got up from his immaculately made bed and retrieved his Potions notes from his bedside stand. Oliver came in behind him and flopped himself down on Percy's bed. 

"Okay, now where shall we begin?" questioned Percy, noticing Oliver's still-wet hair and his clean, soapy smell. 

"Well, I know that most of what we've been doing is review from last year, but could we go over that first?" 

"Certainly," replied Percy as they settled themselves into comfortable positions, Percy leaning against his headboard, pushing the earlier distraction from his mind. Oliver took his place sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the bed, his head on his hands. 

Percy had always been excellent at logically explaining things, and he began right away, repeating in a clear, lucid was the recent lessons Snape had given. Lost in his own notes, it took Percy about ten minutes before he realised that Oliver was not paying attention, but instead staring blankly at him. Percy stopped talking. 

"Oliver, are you listening?" 

"Perce," Oliver began, "I need to tell you something..." 

"Don't worry about it if you weren't listening. It's really not a problem." 

"No, it's not that," Oliver interjected. "I don't really know how to tell you this, but I know that it's necessary." 

Percy was confused. What was he talking about? 

"Ever since we were first-years, I've admired you -- your diligence, your patience, your integrity, your honesty... You've never made me feel stupid or silly, even though you probably think I am sometimes." 

"Oliver --" 

"I don't know if you ever notice, but I have found myself staring at you a lot recently. When you're in class, and you are looking so intent on what the teacher is saying, when you're reading some kind of book, and you start biting your fingernails, when you lean over your desk and take notes on one of our textbook, and you dip your quill so pertly, I watch you. When you take off your robe at night and fold it so delicately and put it in it's special drawer and then you stand there in your underwear and take out your hand-me-down pajamas, I pretend to be asleep, just so I can record what you look like and replay it later. What I'm trying to say, Perce, is that I love you, that I'm *in* love with you." 

Percy was overcome with a flushed sensation. That was the last thing he expected Oliver to say. Oliver Wood, in love with him, Percy Weasley? Percy had no idea what to think. 

Oliver broke the silence, seeing Percy's uncomfortableness, "I know -- you don't feel the same way, but I couldn't keep from telling you any longer. I needed you to know." 

"Oliver..." Percy stumbled, "I -- I never knew..." What could he say? Percy was still having trouble processing what had must been said to him. Oliver Wood, the boy sitting here on his bed, his roommate of three years, loved him, in a romantic way. 

"I understand that this must be somewhat odd for you -- I just hope this won't affect our friendship, that you'll remain the friend you are in spite of this." 

"I -- I think I need to think about this," Percy said weakly. 

"Yes, of course," said Oliver, his voice warbling a little. 

Percy arose from the bed, his back stiff from not moving, and made way out of the room, Oliver watching him as he went. He continued until he reached the outer door to Hogwarts. He needed air, to clear his mind, to dissect what had just happened. It was about 5 30, almost time for dinner, but Percy didn't notice. He noticed very little as he meandered around the lawn, examining the grass, yet not quite seeing it. 

He had never been more confused or disheveled in his life. His first reaction had been one of absolute shock. He had in no way ever considered such a thought. Percy stopped for a moment. He was now considering it, and it appealed to him. There was something... Oliver, the graceful quidditch player; Oliver, the friendly, charming boy Percy had lived with for three years; Oliver, the beautiful addition to Percy's life at Hogwarts. Oliver... beautiful... Oliver... in love with him... 

"Hey, whatcha doin' there, eh Perce? It's dinnertime coming up soon now." 

Percy looked up to see Hagrid making his way up from his cottage on the edge of the woods. "I was just taking a walk -- I'm on my way back now." 

"You'd better -- you scrawny little things need all the vittles you can get!" jovially burst Hagrid. Percy gave him a half-paralysed smile as he dusted off his robe. He always seemed to find grass at various places on his black outfit, completely unacceptable. Following a short ways behind Hagrid, Percy was grateful for a respite to his contemplation. 

The air in the dining hall had a heavy, tepid, end-of-summer feel to it as the students sat down at their respective tables. Percy took his customary seat and waited for the other students to arrive. As the table slowly filled up, he noticed Oliver walking through the high double doors from the main staircase. His shoulders were slumped, and his head was bowed over. Instead of sitting where he usually did, directly opposite Percy, he sat down at the far end of the table, away from the other students. He sat there, looking down at his hands, not speaking to anyone. 

Through the meal, Percy kept his eyes on Oliver. What was he thinking over there? He was obviously upset -- was it because of Percy's indecipherable reaction to his announcement of his love? He had put himself in a very vulnerable position, and Percy had been less than reassuring. Seeing the other boy's distraught state of being, Percy began feeling very tender toward him -- Oliver needed him, needed his acceptance and friendship, and Percy saw no reason to keep it from him. 

Oliver began fidgeting, looking more and more agitated, and abruptly got up fro the table, leaving his untouched meal behind him. Percy rose immediately and followed him, only knowing that that was what he needed to do. He caught up to him just outside the Gryffindor common room. 

"Oliver, wait a second, I'd like to talk," said Percy, timidly touching his hand to the other boy's arm. "I want to know -- are you upset because of me?" Percy looked intently at Oliver, trying to guess what he was feeling. 

The quidditch player looked at Percy, eyes glistening, and simply collapsed to the floor, bursting out in tears. Uncertain of what to do, Percy did what was natural and kneeled down next to him, trying to comfort him. He put his arms around the curled up form of his roommate and just sat there, silently, for a long time. 

Oliver felt so warm in his arms, his strong body shaking with his sobs. He was so powerful, yet so delicate and open and vulnerable -- he needed Percy's arms around him. The longer they sat there, the more Percy realised that he too needed this contact. It was producing in him something... a warm, tender, gentle, softness that gave him a secure contentedness he had never known before. He realised that he wanted this to last -- he wanted Oliver. 

The sound of footsteps and voices in hallway woke Percy from his sleepy reverie. "Let's go on up to the room," he said, barely audible. Oliver simply nodded, not yet trusting his voice, and the two boys made their way up to the dorm, Percy's arm still around Oliver. They somehow wound up lying by each other on Percy's bed, his arms wrapped behind Oliver's back. Percy looked tenderly at the face of his roommate, and he found himself gradually moving closer to him. 

Their noses touched, their visions blurred, and still Percy moved closer. He could feel his chest press against Oliver's toned torso, could feel the two slight indentions that were Oliver's nipples against his body. His wrapped his leg around Oliver's thigh, as though showing his desire to not let the other boy go. Percy closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and went in. Their lips touched, and nothing had ever felt more right. How could it not? An electric connection was immediately made, and a symbiotic energy flowed between the two boys. Oliver's lips felt so good against Percy's -- full, gentle, delightful, delicious. 

"Mmm," Oliver hummed in ecstasy. He put his arms around Percy, pulled back a little and said, "I love you so much." 

"Oliver, I love you too," replied Percy lightly, caressing his love's back with his hand, shaky with excitement. 

A new, contented sleepiness overcame the two future wizards, and they fell asleep, knowing that they had finally found each other. 


End file.
